


can’t promise we’ll always see eye to eye (but i’ll try)

by halfwheeze



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anger Management, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Trying, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Anger Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Whump, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Trying, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Jason Todd-centric, Pit Rage, Protective Jason Todd, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: The third Robin gets hit by Dr Freeze while Daddy Bats is off world. Robin 1 is in Bludhaven, Spoiler is in San Francisco, and that leaves... Red Hood.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 206





	can’t promise we’ll always see eye to eye (but i’ll try)

**Author's Note:**

> originally titled "fuck dr freeze" 
> 
> written for day 8 of febuwhump (which is not going to be a series on my ao3 bc im not doing a bunch of it uwu)
> 
> DAY 8: “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep”

“Hey, hey, hey, Timbo, this is no time to sleep, buddy, stay with me,” Jason says, tapping on the side of his Replacement’s face, wishing that, for once, Dickbag would pick up his calls. Big Bat is off-world and Stephanie is… Stephanie is useless anyway, in his opinion, but she’s in San Francisco, Jason is pretty sure, so extra useless for today. That’s gotta be why O called him anyway. Fuck. He has Tim curled up in his lap and he looks too goddamn small for words, too small to be a Robin and Jason tried to  _ kill him  _ a few months ago, a few short, short months ago and he doesn’t deserve to be slotting himself back into the family like Dick wants him to so badly. He deserves the way that Stephanie looks at him, the way that Tim usually slides away from him, not the way that Tim is leaning against him now. 

“J’son?” Tim slurs, eyes barely open as he tips his head up at Jason reluctantly, but it’s enough. The worry cocktails with the constant backburner rage unpleasantly, makes him want to throw the Pretender and run, cut and leave before he does something drastic and stupid, stupid stupid. Tim is fifteen and he’s gonna have hypothermia if you don’t take him to Alfred, Jason, he’s gonna have permanent damage if you don’t step up, Jason, what are you gonna do, leave him on the street, Jason, let someone else get their hands on him, Jason, let someone else touch him, Jason, let someone else get their dirty hands on your little brother, Jason, would Dick ever-

Dick isn’t here. Jason has to be. 

“I’m here, Timbo, you gotta stay with me, bud. Alfie is gonna have my ass if you fall asleep before I get you home,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of the Pretender’s forehead absentmindedly, because it was the one thing both Catherine and Bruce both did when he was smaller and sicker and so so young.  _ Fuck,  _ he doesn’t have a car. Just the motorcycle. Timbit is only 5’6, maybe a buck fifty, muscle included. He’ll lose the body heat that Jason has recollected him, but he can get him to the manor on the front of the bike. It just won’t be too pretty. 

“We’re gonna have to take the bike, babybird. You’re gonna have to get on the bike with me,” Jason coaxes, so much gentler than he thought he knew how to be, and the pit wants to climb the back of his mind, but he pushes it down. He pushes down  _ green, fire, rage, dark  _ in a way that he didn’t think he could because Tim needs him. He has fear crawling up his throat and his leather jacket wrapped around Tim’s shoulders like a blanket (it’s so much bigger than Tim’s shoulders, so much bigger than his tiny, tiny frame can hold), and he can push it down. He can push it down until he can hand Tim over to Alfred and know that Tim is fucking safe and then he can go kill someone and set everything fucking right. 

Everything is gonna be fucking fine. 

Tim whines when he tries to get the kid up and Jason almost starts crying out of secondhand frustration, but that is neither here nor there. The spike of anger that he has to push down he ignores, because that’s not relevant. He scoops the kid up and grabs his other jacket, because of course it’s November in Gotham when the kid is also hit by Dr. Freeze without Batman (because Batman lets him go on patrols while he’s offworld because Batman is a fucking idiot but if Jason thinks about that at all he’ll have to go kill someone with little Robin in tow). 

_ “J’son,”  _ Tim whines when he sets him down for a second, shivering deeply on the couch while Jason puts on his own jacket. Jason shrugs on his jacket faster than he ever has in his life. 

The motorcycle ride across town is unpleasant as Jason worries about his cargo, making sure that Tim is secured against his chest, making sure that Tim is safe, making sure that Tim is  _ warm.  _ His skin is still cold to the touch, which is expected but so, so worrying, and he’s so much smaller than Jason was at that age, and he’s seen pictures of Dick at fifteen and he’s smaller than Dick was too; there’s no reason for him to be so thin. Not and be Robin. But he has to pull out of those thoughts because all roads lead back to the rage because he’ll think about how Bruce  _ let this  _ **_kid_ ** \- and no. Not when Tim is  _ right here.  _ Pulling into the Cave entrance is familiar, easy, even when he doesn’t as much as the “family” wants him to, as much as Dick wants him to, at least. If Dick wanted him to do anything, he’d pick up the goddamn phone. Alfred is waiting for him when he comes out of the garage section of the Cave. 

“Hey Alf,” Jason greets automatically. Alfred smiles at him just like he did when he was a kid, pure and good and kind, and Jason aches inside. He forgets to address the elephant in the Cave. 

“Master Jason, this is unexpected. What brings you - Oh,” recognition washes over him as he realizes exactly what-  _ who  _ rather is wrapped up in Jason’s jacket. “Do come along, then,” Alfred says, bringing him to the medical area. 

“He got hit by Dr. Freeze. He’s not frostbitten yet, I found him pretty soon after, but he’s not in good condition; I think he might have fell when he was hit and he might have a concussion. He needs a general looking over, and I don’t know how to do that,” Jason explains, and it hits him all at once that he is very much eighteen years old, despite everything. Despite the bravado, despite dying, despite the Red Hood, despite Batman, despite  _ Robin,  _ he’s eighteen years old. He’s never fallen in love or filed taxes or gone on a date or finished high school or been to a wedding or toured a college or  _ done anything,  _ and he fucking died when he was fifteen and he never got to mourn that and he just carried his little brother home to their Dad’s house because he almost died too and  _ he’s not here.  _

“I’m gonna call Dick again. And, um. Bruce. I know he’s off world. But uh. I still wanna call him. I’m gonna call him,” he says to Tim and Alfred and the room at large and maybe himself, because his throat just won’t clear, and he feels like he’s gonna cry. 

Why does he keep feeling like he’s gonna cry? He hasn’t cried since he  _ died.  _

Dick doesn’t pick up the fucking phone. How fucking typical. 

“Hey Dickie? Um, I just got to the manor. Alfred is taking care of Tim, he’s gonna be okay. I. I just fucking realized that I haven’t dealt with the fact that I fucking died and I kinda need my big brother right now so if you could pick up the phone that would be  _ stellar.  _ Thanks!” 

He hangs up with a big smile for no one and  _ doesn’t  _ throw his phone across the room, so he counts that as a big win, thank you very much, counselor from the ninth grade. Fuck you very much indeed.  _ Member of the family.  _ What fucking family? Can’t be a fucking family without anybody fucking here, Dickard. Don’t be angry, don’t be angry. If Dick isn’t here, he can’t be here for the kid. Somebody has to be here for the kid, and Alfie can’t do it alone. Don’t be angry. Can’t afford it. 

You already tried to kill him once, Jaybird. Not again. 

Then, he calls one of the only people he knows with an off-world phone number. 

“Hood? Is Gotham secure?” Hal Jordan says, answering on the first ring, unlike some people. They must be in transit then. Yeah okay. 

“Batman around? I figured he wouldn’t answer his own phone,” Jason says, infusing his voice with bravado. Hal doesn’t need to hear his quaking post death realizations ( _ No one else does either,  _ a green voice inside him reminds him, but he pushes it down, reminding himself that he has bigger fish to fry), so he’s gotta pull it together. Hal laughs. 

“Don’t I know it. Sometimes can’t even get him on the line for the League. B! Hood’s on the line for you,” Hal says, clearly in better spirits than Jason has heard him in… maybe ever. He doesn’t talk to Hal Jordan much though. There isn’t much reason to. He braces himself to talk to the big man. 

“Hood?” Bruce’s timbre cracks through the communicator and it reminds Jason of being a child, just like pretty much everything else that’s happened today. Somehow, he makes  _ Hood  _ sound like  _ Lad,  _ like  _ affection,  _ like something he hasn’t had for Jason since he put him in a pine box in the ground, and  _ god.  _

_ “Dad,”  _ Jason whispers despite himself, despite the whispers in his head that always remind him that Bruce let him die, that Bruce let his killer walk, that Bruce never loved him, never wanted him, never saved him. He hears Bruce gasp over the phone. Jason clears his throat. 

“Tim got hit by Dr. Freeze. I got him to the manor, Alfred is taking care of him. He’s going to be okay. When you get back on world, we’re going to have a talk about Robin patrolling alone. And we’re going to have a talk about the fact that I - that I died. A real one. For now, I’m gonna go back in and help Alfie take care of my little brother. You come home safe, alright, old man? You die out there, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, okay?” he says, and he grins roughly when Bruce laughs, a ragged but honest sound. 

“Yes. Okay. Goodbye, Hood. I will see in Gotham,” Bruce says, as much as he’s willing to say in front of other Leaguers, but enough. Jason swallows down the green and the last bits of rage and the  _ nothing  _ inside of him. It’s enough. 

“See you, Bruce.” 

**Author's Note:**

> eventually, dick does hear the messages and call back but he was on shift and he's really really sorry. he really wants to be there for his little brothers and he's gonna have a shiny shiny ~breakdown~ about this later probably because dick grayson doesn't have perfect mental health either thank you for coming to my tedtalk. 
> 
> hmu at sapphiccass on ao3 and remember that can and should tap me on comms!


End file.
